That 70's Porn
by Redlance-ck
Summary: Helena's sink in on the fritz. Time to call for a plumber. [Smut One-shot]


**Disclaimer: **Warehouse 13, the world and the characters that inhabit it do not belong to me in any way, though sometimes I lie awake at night wishing that they did and what I'd do with them if they did. And then I write those thoughts down.

**A/N:** The blame for this lies squarely on the shoulders of helenastacie for making the gifset that inspired me, Race for encouraging me, and winged-mammal for demanding I write it for the Pornathon. Huge thanks to Aurora for reading over it and holding my hand as I wrote and generally making me feel okay about it. This is not... my usual smut. It's basically a PWP and I'm barely comfortable in my ability to write 'smut-with-feelings', so honestly, I'm not really sure how I've done here. I can only hope it isn't too terrible and that you at least find the beginning a tad amusing.

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She gave the door three quick knocks and straightened the baseball cap she'd managed to tug on over her usually unruly curls. Then she waited, glancing down to where the dirt-smudged tips of her sneakers peaked out from beneath the cuff of the dark blue overalls she was wearing. After a few moments she heard the sound of a lock being disengaged and looked up in time to see the door swing open.

"Hi, I'm..." Speechless, she thought, eyes going wide beneath the brim of her hat as they flickered over the vision before her. The door had opened to reveal a woman, of that she was absolutely certain, wearing a robe of what appeared to be silk, and who looked as though she had just stepped out of the shower. The material clung to her body like a second skin in places, hugging the swell of her hips and plastering itself against the woman's chest. A chest that was entirely uncovered beneath the robe, if the practically pornographic definition of the breasts beneath it was anything to go by. She felt every ounce of moisture in her mouth evaporate and had to work her it for a few mortifying moments before she could coerce any words out. "I'm Myka." She finally finished, dragging her gaze up and away from where she could see nipples straining against damp fabric. "I'm here to fix your fridge?" When she was met with a small smirk and raised eyebrows, she grimaced, bringing her free hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose for a moment before flinging it out to the side and waving it dismissively. "Your sink, your sink!" She let out a heavy sigh and opened her eyes, shaking her head as if the action would clear her mind. "I'm here to fix your sink." The woman whose porch she was stood on chuckled, airily and opened the door wider, silently welcoming Myka inside. Myka entered, taking a moment to roll her eyes at herself when her back was to the other woman.

"I'm Helena. Thank goodness you're here," her voice was light and pleasant, almost melodic in a way, and it had Myka turning back to face her before she'd even registered hearing it. She'd closed the door and dropped back to lean against it, and Myka's eyes drifted down over long, bare legs that glistened with water droplets. She watched as one was jerked loose by the motion of the woman and trickled along a calf muscle, falling to join its scattered brothers and sisters atop the hardwood flooring. "I was becoming rather desperate." And suddenly the legs she'd become fixated on where much closer than she remembered and Myka's head snapped up to find the woman herself much closer than she remembered as well, wearing a smile that was so thankful it lingered dangerously close to promising. She arched an eyebrow.

"Well then, let's hope I brought the right tool for the job." She gave the toolbox she was holding a gentle shake to indicate it and felt warmth bloom at the pit of her stomach as Helena hummed her agreement aloud.

"I dare say you'll need a big one." Myka swallow, hard, inhaling through her nose to keep any errant sounds that might otherwise slip free contained. Helena brushed past her, pressing her damp body against Myka's for only the briefest eternal moment, and backed into the dining room. "The sink is this way." Myka followed wordlessly, unable to stop her eyes from watching the way the woman's hips moved as she walked, unable to stop them from drifting along the backs of pale thighs that disappeared beneath fabric that had been cut sinfully short. She licked her lips, catching the action only after it was completed, and then she took a breath and forced her gaze up once more as they reached the kitchen.

Water had pooled in spots atop the tiles, the largest situated directly in front of the sink with a few smaller ones dotted around, and a veritable geyser of it was shooting forth from the faucet. A faucet that wasn't so much a faucet anymore as it was a pipe sticking up from the hole it had been affixed to, the aforementioned valve sitting – rather broken – off to one side. Myka pursed her lips, eyes narrowing at the corners.

"I'm afraid I became rather enthused while washing dishes." She shot the woman a sidelong glance and was greeted with an expression far too innocent to be real. She could see the deception, lingering like shadows beneath porcelain skin. "It's a wonder that all of these modern appliances don't simply shatter when gripped a little too firmly." Myka's lips curved into a smile.

"And I'll bet you know all about firm grips." She murmured, turning on her heel as she spoke and making her way towards the oak table sitting in the centre of the dining room. She lifted the toolbox she'd been carrying and laid it carefully atop the stained wood, flicking open the clasps with her fingers. Fingers that curled into half-fists around the edge of the toolbox as the damp heat of a water-sprayed body pressed into her from behind and artfully shaped lips grazed her ear.

"I could show you exactly how much I know." She could feel the pressure of the other woman's breasts against her back, could feel enough to know her nipples were still hard beneath wet fabric. Could feel the whisper of promise against her ear and desire tighten into a coil somewhere deep within her. "If you'd like." And then she felt it release, in a way that no real-life, no tangible spring could. It loosened, melted, trickled to pool between her thighs and she let her eyes flutter closed as Helena pressed closer. And then, quite like a spring herself, she became a whirlwind of motion.

She spun, trapped between the table and the woman with smouldering eyes and a smile that made Myka feel like prey, and used the momentum of the motion to close the remaining millimetres of distance between them. Their lips met with the eagerness of teenagers, their kiss hot and wet, too fast to do anything but stoke the rapidly rising inferno. Myka couldn't really register the feelings it evoked, could only sense desire. Taste desire, feel it beneath her palms as her hands reached around to flatten against the shorter woman's back. As they slid down to cup a firm backside and draw a muffled moan of approval from a mouth that was far to busy to do anything else. Hands were pressed against her chest, manoeuvring somewhat expertly in the tight space, and fingers curled between the clasps of Myka's overalls to wrench the two sides apart, ripping open the front of the jumpsuit. Nimble fingers slipped through the new opening, sliding over Myka's shoulders, and then hands were making their way along her arms as Helena, rather distractedly, attempted to free her from the top half of the garment. Dazed, it took Myka a moment to realise why her arms were being tugged on, and she eventually pulled back from the kiss in order to focus long enough to coordinate herself. She slipped her arms free and let the top half of her overalls fall to hang about her waist, then gripped the edge of the table with both hands as Helena pressed close again to steal another soul-searing kiss. Desire trickled through her like molten fire, pooling like lava, burning her in a way that was nothing but exquisite and yet bordered dangerously on too much. Then hands were groping her breasts, making her feel as though the tank top she was wearing wasn't there at all, and pure lust seemed to body-check her right across that borderline.

She grabbed Helena by the hips and, pleased to feel not even an inkling of resistance, turned them so that their positions were reversed. And Helena's back had barely met the table edge by the time Myka's hands were fumbling for the tie of her robe. The laugh that left the shorter woman was amused and rather short-lived, because it didn't take long for flimsy knot to be worked free and then the robe parted like clouds, revealing heaven. And the look that flashed across Myka's face as naked flesh was revealed to her was nothing short of hungry. A small sound slipped by her parted lips, one that fell somewhere between a grunt and a groan, and her hands moved over silken skin as though they possessed minds of their own. Gasps were drawn from the woman before her as Myka's fingers traversed the plains of her stomach, slipped down to skirt the insides of her thighs, and then were lifted to grasp a hip and close around a breast in unison. Helena moaned at the touch and let her head fall back as a forefinger and thumb caught a nipple and pinched, a little too harsh to be considered gentle. And something in the way her upper body arched, the way every inch of her became somehow even more gloriously exposed by the motion, had desire capture Myka in a death grip. She slid the hand at Helena's breast towards the centre of her chest and pushed, urging her up onto the table, and dark eyes met burning emeralds once more as she obliged. In one swift motion she was sitting atop sturdy oak and parting her legs for Myka to stand between them. Helena's hands reached for her and Myka's own fell to lie against the woman's thighs, fingers clenching in a pattern that held no rhyme or reason as they kissed, their tips dinging into soft flesh. Teeth snared her lower lip and tugged, and Myka could feel the woman's smile. And then her fingers clenched once more as fire raced though her veins, and it didn't take much. No more than a slight shift of her hand to place it exactly where she wanted it, needed it. No more than the barest brush of fingertips against slick flesh to pull whimpers of need from the woman spread open before her. No more than the press of their foreheads and the feel of the other's breath on her face to make her feel high and drunk and everything in between. She eased a finger between folds and groaned at the wetness that greeted her. Abundant, undeniable, near sinful in the way the touch tore pleasure from them both, leaving them ragged and breathing hard. Then it was no more than a simple motion and she was sliding inside with an ease that might have been embarrassing to anyone else.

Her mouth fell open in a wordless groan as warmth enveloped her, though the sound that left Helena was loud enough to count for both of them. Hands came up, one lifting the cap from Myka's head and the other poised and ready to sink into the thick curls that bounced free. They tugged at Myka's hair, urging her forward and their lips together again, and she obliged, but only for a moment. Then she was curling her finger and dragging it back out, adding a second before pushing in once more. She ducked her head, pressing her lips to Helena's neck and teasing another moan free as she began moving her hand in a slow, steady rhythm, fingers sliding in and out of wet heat with an ease that made Myka's stomach clench and roll.

"You're so wet." Myka murmured against warm skin, pressing a kiss to a fluttering pulse-point and closing her eyes as the hands in her hair gave a firm tug in no particular direction. "The sight of my toolbox get you all worked up?" She nipped playfully at the flesh beneath her lips, ears straining to hear any response over the sound of her own rapid heartbeat.

"Perhaps I'm simply powerless against the sight of a woman in over-" Fingernails scratched at her scalp as Myka's teeth pulled at skin, sucked and bit and did everything to ensure a mark would be left, and she curled her fingers inside the woman, teasing the spot that would make Helena see starts. Dark hair spilled back over a naked shoulder as Helena inclined her head to the side, giving Myka unfettered access as small sounds of pleasure spilled past her lips as unending whimpers. Once satisfied with her branding, Myka pressed a final kiss to the now tender patch of skin and pulled back far enough to watch the woman's face as she changed her pace, stroking faster, pressing deeper. Her dark eyes were closed, her hands shifting to grip Myka by the shoulders as she let her head fall back once more and let out a gasp of pleasant surprise as the heel of the hand between her legs brushed across her clit. Bringing her head up, Helena shifted atop the table, heels of her feet digging into Myka's upper thighs to urge her closer, and she wrapped her legs around slender hips to hold her in place once she'd complied. But Myka was someone who, at times, enjoyed her freedom a little too much to be captured so easily, and she slipped her fingers free at a pace so slow it was torturous. A whimpering moan of discontent found her ears, teased her lips into a sly smile, and then she reached up to encircle the woman's wrists, tugging persistently until the hands were lifted from her shoulders and she could ease them down the front of her body. Pointedly dragging them over her breasts and then pushing them down over her stomach until they rested at 'v' of her open overalls. Then she released her hold and dropped her arms to her sides, green eyes darkened and hooded as they flickered about the panting woman's face. She felt fingers curl around the material, swayed a little on her feet as she was pulled ever so slightly off balance, and then with an audible click, the snaps of the bottoms began to come free. Though Myka barely registered it, too intent on the way Helena's mouth had fallen open to drag in ragged breaths, the way her chest moved with every intake and exhalation. Unable to resist, she bent forward, closing her lips around a nipple that seemed to her to be begging for attention and she released a groan as her tongue teased the peak. A groan that was matched and then beaten, though only in volume, and suddenly Helena's hands were frantic against the fastenings of her pants, calming only when Myka heard the satisfying pop of the remaining snaps. She felt Helena's hand brush the inside of her thigh, arousal bolting through her like lightning at the touch, and she sucked the nipple between her teeth, eliciting a guttural moan, before releasing it and straightening.

"I bring the right-" Myka's sentence broke off into a grunt as Helena's hand closed around smooth silicone and slid down, pressing the flat base against her. She chuckled, eyes fluttering closed for a heartbeat. "Tool?" A low hum of approval had her blinking her eyes open once more and she was met with the sight of Helena dragging her tongue across her lips.

"I dare say you might have exactly what I need." And she dipped her head to deliver a traitorously chaste kiss, before lowering her voice and whispering, "Won't you show me how you use it?" against Myka's mouth. Making her blood boil and intensifying the already toe-curling ache between her legs. Then she was pushing Helena again, this time forcing her down against the surface of the table and, once she was flat, pulling her towards its edge by her hips.

She glanced down, taking the time to adjust a twisted strap of the harness and ensure her extra appendage for the evening was nice and secure, and then she was staring along the length of Helena's nude form, eyes hooded, heart hammering, drinking in the scenery as though she were staring at paradise itself.

And her eyes remained fixed, even as her hand closed around the violet shaft, steadying it as she guided it between legs that fallen from her hips and lay draped over the end of the table, open, waiting. Helena's back arched as Myka began entering her, pace needlessly slow and intensely pleasing. The naked woman let out a keening moan, one that tapered off into charged silence as Myka slid deeper, meeting no resistance as the entire length of it disappeared and she eventually reached a point where she could go no further. And then for a long moment, she simply held perfectly still. Pressing close, until she felt the flat of the dildo grind against her clit, and then she began to move.

Cries of pleasure left them in unison, as Myka clung to slender hips and rocked her own in time to a rhythm that had come as second nature. Slow and deep, Myka could feel Helena straining to meet her every thrust but found herself unable to find the leverage and eventually settled for hooking a leg over Myka's hip, holding her close yet allowing her to still move freely. And move she did, hand drifting up to roll a nipple between her fingers and drag another strangled moan from the reclining woman. Helena's hands were at her hair, tugging and threading her fingers through it over and over again until Myka's hand returned to her hip and one of Helena's own replaced it. Green eyes watched with unabashed fascination as Helena's hand closed around her breast, seeming to squeeze in time with Myka's movements, movements that quickened as she watched the display. Watched Helena take a nipple between her fingers and pinch and pull. Myka's hips gave an involuntarily harsh jerk at the sight and she hissed at the way the dildo's base pressed back into her. Helena cried out, fingers fisting in her hair and eyes burning as they met Myka's.

"Yes." She breathed, all velvet tones and sinful whispers. "Harder." And Myka's fingernails dug into the flesh of Helena's hips hard enough to leave mini crescent moon impressions as her thrusts quickened. Helena caught her lower lip between her teeth, clamping down in what Myka assumed was some preventative affectation.

"Don't." Her voice, to her surprise, came evenly, and Helena released her lip instinctively without question. "I want to hear you." And then there was nothing to fight back the silence but sounds of sex and pleasure, filling the space between them like some potent aphrodisiac that only served to wind them tighter, drive their desire higher. Myka's eyes wouldn't blink, wouldn't stray from the vision before her. Even as her own climax began to build and the sheer power of it had them drooping to thin slits. Helena's moans were constant now – perhaps for show, not that Myka was bothered by that – and she could tell the other woman was close, knew that she wasn't all that far behind. She dragged her hand down over Helena's abdomen, nails raking thin red lines that would fade after a while but please Myka well enough for the moment. Helena too, judging from the hitch in her moans. Then she pressed the pad of her thumb against a surely desperate bundle of nerves and Helena's back arched once more, her head almost lifting clear of the table. She fell back with a thud and a soft cry of Myka's name, and it was the desire to hear her name again, only louder, that had Myka tracing firm circles with her thumb and turning the thrusts of her hips slow once more.

Then a hand was reaching for her blindly, despite that fact that dark eyes remained opened, and Myka lifted the one gripping Helena's hip and laced their fingers together. Helena's parted lips curved into a tremulous half-smile and then Myka felt the leg wrapped around her suddenly clench. The hand in hers clamped down tight, threatened to pull Myka down on top of the trembling woman, and Helena's shoulders left the smooth wood. Myka earned her scream, kept the circling of her thumb slow and firm and watched with unblinking eyes as the woman unravelling before her called out her name. And only then did Myka finally screw her eyes shut, had a brief moment of clarity in which she wondered about the possibility of a heel shaped bruise against her backside, then her own orgasm reached up to drag her down into its blissful depths. She bucked one final time, and then came apart with a wordless, near silent moan.

She could hear the clock ticking on the wall to the left of them, felt its monotonous rhythm attempt to calm the wild beating of her heart as a single bead of sweat trickled along the back of her neck. Her chest felt heavy, breathing far more laboured than usual, and her entire body tingled like static. She felt her knees begin to weaken, the strength leaving them, and reluctantly she shifted to withdraw the shaft still buried inside the other woman. Helena whimpered, but made no effort to stop her, though she refused to let go of Myka's hand and so it was with a little awkwardness that Myka wiggled the phallus free of its fastening and placed it atop the toolbox. Then, carefully distributing her weight, she hauled herself onto the table and lowered her body so that she was half-draped across the panting woman. Thick curls spilling over a pale shoulder, cheek pressed against a collarbone. The overalls were twisted, uncomfortably so, but Myka refused to move.

They lay like that, waiting out their harsh breathing, as the seconds ticked by.

"You know," Helena began at length, voice hoarse, as Myka's fingers danced lines and patterns along her ribcage. And she could hear the humour in the other woman's voice, knew what was coming, and smiled against flushed skin. "The refrigerator was last time, I believe." Myka groaned, this one birthed from playful annoyance rather than pleasure, and she turned her head to nip at the skin beneath her cheek.

"I know." She admitted, pressing a kiss to the same spot and tilting her head to catch Helena's gaze. "I wasn't expecting an entry into MTV's Spring Break Wet T-shirt Contest to greet me. You kind of took me off guard." Helena raised a single eyebrow, archly.

"Another marvel of the twenty-first century?" Myka chuckled and laid her head back against Helena's chest.

"Right up there with Hooters." There was a beat of silence before she hastily added, "Don't ask." She sent her gaze along the lower half of Helena's body, taking a moment to appreciate beauty in all its glory. "Helena?" The inventor's response was a dreamy hum. "Did you **have** to break the sink?" The woman beneath her shifted in a way Myka assumed was supposed to convey a shrug.

"It's called method-acting, darling. And I am nothing if not thorough." And Myka couldn't really argue with that.


End file.
